the story of your gypsy uncle.

At this particular moment, there are any number of things I could choose to be irritated about.

1. The severe lack of communication skills that I find most men have today.

2. The severe lack of vacation I have had in the last 6 months.

3. The severe lack of caboyhydrates and sugar I have eaten in the past two weeks (thank you, stupid bridesmaid dress)

4. My inability to pay my bills on time (or at all)

5. My piss poor choices in relationships

6. The incessant stream of bums in the alley behind my apartment (directly beneath my bedroom window) that root through dumpsters in hopes of finding bottles and cans.

Today, I let the bums win.
Today, they are my source of aggravation.
Today, I will blame them.
Really, they NEVER stop. I can't hardly sleep in this room because I battle the sound of clanking bottles and the stomping of cans. If I am really lucky, they heave the cans and bottles into metal truck beds with with fervor. How many cans and bottles could these bums possibly find in my alley, one might ask? Lord only knows -- but they sure find a lot. and they find them every night.

I've heard that a diet lacking in starch and carbs can lead to heightened emotions and listlessness?
Maybe that is my problem.

But really, all fingers point to the can stomping bums. I cant sleep with this racket.